


In Want of Reprieve

by SightKeeper (GarrulousGibberish)



Series: Aziraphale Whump [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Body Horror, Fanart, Fire, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Gore, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, No Dark Crowley, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whumptober 2020, incarceration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarrulousGibberish/pseuds/SightKeeper
Summary: Whumptober 2020 prompts, ranging from drabbles to ficlets to art. All featuring Aziraphale.[Every chapter is a different prompt, and each prompt will have more explicit tagging at the beginning of the chapter. Please take care!]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Aziraphale Whump [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637677
Comments: 27
Kudos: 78
Collections: Hurt Aziraphale, Whumptober 2020





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go! I am constantly filled with anxiety about so much these days, and this is a perfect way to vent so I'm latching onto it. Buckle up, and heed each chapter's individual warnings. Enjoy!

**No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME**

Waking Up Restrained | **Shackled** | Hanging

**No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY**

**“Pick Who Dies”** | Collars | Kidnapped

**No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY**

**Manhandled** | **Forced to their Knees** | Held at Gunpoint

**No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME**

**Caged** | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

**No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?**

On the Run | Failed Escape | **Rescue**

**No 6. PLEASE…**

**“Get it Out”** | No More | **“Stop, please”**

**No 7. I’VE GOT YOU**

Support | **Carrying** | Enemy to Caretaker

**No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?**

“Don’t Say Goodbye” | **Abandoned** | Isolation

**No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD**

“Take Me Instead” | **“Run!”** | Ritual Sacrifice

**No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED**

Blood Loss | **Internal Bleeding** | Trail of Blood

**No 11. PSYCH 101**

Defiance | **Struggling** | **Crying**

**No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING**

Broken Down | Broken Bones | **Broken Trust**

**No 13. ~~BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT~~ (replacing with:** **WATER** **)**

Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask 

**No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?**

Branding | Heat Exhaustion | **Fire**

**No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN**

Possession | Magical Healing | **Science Gone Wrong**

**No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY**

Forced to Beg | **Hallucinations** | Shoot the Hostage

**No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING**

**Blackmail** | **Dirty Secret** | Wrongfully Accused

**No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO**

**Panic Attacks** | Phobias | Paranoia

**No 19. BROKEN HEARTS**

Grief | Mourning Loved One | **Survivor’s Guilt**

**No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE**

Lost | **Field Medicine** | Medieval 

**No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL**

Chronic Pain | **Hypothermia** | **Infection**

**No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?**

**Poisoned** | Drugged | Withdrawal

**No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?**

**Exhaustion** | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

**No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE**

Forced Mutism | **Blindfolded** | **Sensory Deprivation**

**No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS**

**Disorientation** | **Blurred Vision** | **Ringing Ears**

**No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE** **HEAD TRAUMA** **WAS BAD…**

Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

 **No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?  
  
** Earthquake | Extreme Weather | **Power Outage**

**No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.**

Accidents | **Hunting Season** | Mugged

**No 29. ~~I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR~~ (replace with: ** **Adverse Reactions** **)**

Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

**No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?**

Wound Reveal | **Ignoring an Injury** | Internal Organ Injury

 **No 31. ~~TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE~~ (replace with:** **Falling** **)**

Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

* * *

Bolded subprompts are the ones I plan on using. Several of the prompts will be tied together into a running story, and will be labelled in the chapter titles as Title (#/#). Additional warnings will be added at the beginning of each chapter for safety, and I'm of course happy to add any warnings if asked!


	2. No. 1: The Bastille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME**
> 
> Waking Up Restrained | **Shackled** | Hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warnings:** incarceration, rough handling

“This has to be a misunderstanding," Aziraphale pleaded. “A simple mistake, easily cleared up. If you would just _listen_ —”   
  
He was manhandled through the narrow stone halls and towards a cell by two brutish revolutionaries. They were ignoring him, speaking loudly overtop his protests. At least one of them spoke some English, Aziraphale knew, for he’d been shouted at quite a bit when he’d first attempted to prevent his own retrieval. He thought that he might have a bit more of a chance in convincing the man in English than in his own broken French—he would switch tact as soon as he could pull enough of his wits together to remember how to speak it. In the meantime, English was the only common language between them at his disposal.   
  
He couldn’t say he was exactly surprised when it was clear they had no intention in speaking with him. He was, however, quite surprised to overhear something else entirely.  
  
“The Bastille?” he balks. “That—no, that’s not right. You must be confused—”  
  
“It is you who are confused,” the man to his right sneered, breaking his affected ignorance and unceremoniously forcing his captive into his designated cell. It was dark and humid inside, with slick stone walls and a small wooden stool in the center. He shoved Aziraphale down onto it with a heavy hand. His partner went to the other side of the room, dragging chains and manacles with him back to where the angel was sat.  
  
Aziraphale looked at him with surprised bafflement when the manacles were presented to him in an open invitation for his wrists to willingly accept.  
  
Without miracles, and without exposing himself as inhuman, he didn’t really see any dignified way around this. It would be far worse if he were to fight, both for the humans he had not been given permission to influence, who were likely uninterested in a change of heart, and for Heaven’s ledgers for doing so against express orders. He wasn’t even supposed to _be here_.   
  
What would Heaven expect of him to do? He accepted the shackles.  
  
Amused, the one who had shackled him guffawed and nudged his partner, speaking far too brazenly for Aziraphale to attempt to translate. His mind was still a world away, staring at his chains as shame flooded through him, hot and white and familiar. His cage suddenly seemed that much brighter, leaving him in the stark relief of a light that had found him wanting.  
  
The revolutionary yanked on his chain to test them, wrenching his arms forward and bringing him back down to earth. Was it strange to find that he was thankful?  
  
“Please,” Aziraphale insisted, although he knew it was falling on deaf ears, “see reason. You don’t need to do this.”   
  
“You brought this on yourself,” said the one still holding Aziraphale by the shoulder. He patted his rough and oily hand on Aziraphale’s cream-colored coat, pityingly mocking his distress.  
  
And Aziraphale couldn’t really argue that. After all, it had been his own decision to seek indulgence over his work. He was only sorry because he’d been caught, if he was being honest with himself. And in the harsh shaft of light from the cell window, he could hardly be anything else. He’d tried that ploy before, and it hadn’t exactly worked in his favor then, either.  
  
The two men shuffled out of the cell, resoundly clanging the metal grate shut behind them. Their jovial banter echoed off the walls in a parody of a chorus, and Aziraphale made himself very small and still until it faded away completely.   
  
Only when the voices were gone and he was left alone in silence did he dare to chance a small question.  
  
“But the Bastille was destroyed three years ago, wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be entirely honest this prompt was just because I was very amused at the Wiki page saying the Bastille was demolished in 1790, and the show having this scene set in 1793, and that is where my research ended and I'm fine with that.


	3. No. 2: The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY**
> 
> **“Pick Who Dies”** | Collars | Kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warnings:** implied beheading, gaslighting

A part of Aziraphale had to wonder, _were they really expected to know better?_

God Herself had warned them that Eden was theirs, but that they were not to partake of the fruit of knowledge. It wasn’t that this wasn’t a clear enough message; that was never the problem. The real issue was that the fruit had never been, in and of itself, dangerous. And that made it desirable. In this place where they were in want of nothing, suddenly there was temptation. A test.

Really, it would have happened with or without the snake.

But if they had never known consequence, never known order and discipline and shame—how could they ever have been expected to respect the cost of disobedience?

That was Aziraphale’s burden to bear. He knew well the consequences of disobeying Heaven, not only Her. He should have done better to impress upon Adam and Eve his own learnings. It didn’t mean much now, but his heart ached to know he could have spared them, if only he’d been braver; had not feared bringing to light his own ineptitude in warning them. He thinks that is what it must have been, now, though at the time it hadn’t even crossed his mind. They’d been happy. Careless. He’d been so very careless.

Clothed now in vines and leaves, Adam clutched to Eve’s hand as he guided her towards the eastern gate. The “gate” was not really so much of a gate, as this was never supposed to have happened under Aziraphale’s watch. But since it did, and since Adam and Eve were no longer welcome, it was now the Cherub’s duty to make it so they could adhere to their banishment and leave. He might have panicked a little and simply blasted a hole in the wall to do so, but needs must. He would remedy that later once the immediate concern was taken care of.

Adam kept Eve behind him, wary in a new and saddening way as the world outside the walls of Eden loomed. Eve supported her heavy stomach with a defensive hand. The two of them alone against the unknown world looked so small and fragile. Aziraphale stood back in the garden, watching his former wards with four sets of eyes a bleeding heart. He wished he’d been braver when it mattered. Maybe it still did.

“Wait!” he called out to them. They stopped just at the wall, patient but unhopeful. Aziraphale swallowed compulsively and approached them. “Here,” he said, offering up the hilt of the only protection he had left to impart, “my sword. Take it; don’t thank me. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.”

Adam reached out and took it. His eyes shone bright in the flickering flames—his and Eve’s both. Bright with wonder and fear and determination. They didn’t thank him. They didn’t smile or nod or even look to any of Aziraphale’s faces. But their acceptance was all the Cherub had hoped to achieve. For that fleeting moment, he felt that he’d done right by them.

“Aziraphale,” barked a deep, commanding voice. Like a clap of thunder. Overhead, the skies had gone completely dark.

“G-Gabriel,” Aziraphale acknowledged, turning his back to Adam and Eve and flaring out his four wings the barest bit in hopes of shielding them from the Archangel’s piercing eyes. He felt the heat of his own holy weapon at his back and tried not to fear. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“This isn’t a social call,” Gabriel said. Not that Aziraphale had hoped that it would be. At least, not realistically. But he’d always been foolishly optimistic. Gabriel stepped closer and his lavender-cream robes billowed in the building wind. On another plane, wheels of furious fire were spitting at Aziraphale’s skin. “How do you explain what is going on here?”

“They’re leaving, I assure you. They know what they’ve done, and now they must go. And they _are._ ”

“That’s not what I’m concerned with.” He stopped just short of Aziraphale and held his chin high so that he would look down his sharp nose. “The sword, Aziraphale. Why do they have your sword?”

The holy fire at his back burned like ice. His wings trembled and he quailed, pulling himself stiff and close. “W-well, I—I thought. I thought that, they. They need it. More than I.” His voice faltered but did not look away from Gabriel’s violet eyes. He said, “They were Hers, and they deserved that mercy.”

Gabriel sneered in disgust. “That isn’t for you to decide, sunshine. What belongs to Her does not belong to _them_. You had no right to give it away.”

“Please understand, they can’t be expected to survive without—”

“They _aren’t_ , don’t you get that? They chose to disobey, and thus chose to be punished. It’s not cruelty, it’s divine. And to argue Her will is to welcome that same punishment.”

Aziraphale’s unfamiliar heart pounded heavy and cold in his chest. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel scoffed. “What I mean is that for disobeying Her rules, and for taking an angel’s weapon—freely given or not—they deserve more than just a banishment. They deserve to lose their heads.”

Terror unlike any Aziraphale had ever known shot through him. “No! No, you can’t. Please, Gabriel, don’t do this.”

“Aziraphale, this isn’t my choice. This was yours.” But he took a deep, thoughtful breath, and took in how the three of them cowered under his judgement. “You still want me to show them mercy after what you all have done?”

“Please,” he begged. He held out his hands in supplication. “I would do anything. They don’t deserve this.”

“They do,” Gabriel assured, although he added, “but I am gracious. I will give you a choice.”

“Anything,” Aziraphale promised again. “Whatever you ask.”

“Their heads. Or yours.”

Aziraphale froze. The holy fire of the sword at his back, as well as the fire that Gabriel wielded, petrified him still. This wasn’t a choice. Not really. It was a test. He just hadn’t known before he’d given his answer.

“Of course,” Aziraphale whispered. “Of course I accept their punishment.”

Gabriel smiled at him, mirthless and cold and divine. “All right,” he said. “See them off. And then report back to Heaven for the performance review.”

In a flash of lightning, Gabriel was gone. Around them, the air scented sharp like ozone and fear. In time, Aziraphale would become accustomed to it. He wasn’t, yet.

He turned to see Adam and Eve had already turned to leave through the gate. It was for the best that they did. The sun had nearly set, and the sky had begun to weep. Today was the day of many firsts. And many lasts. But for them, he wanted to be brave. He supposed that today, he might have been.

But as he watched the pair of them hold hands as they left, he found himself wishing that he wasn't doing it alone.


	4. No. 3: Vows [1/13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No. 3: MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY**
> 
> **Manhandled** | **Forced to their Knees** | Held at Gunpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warnings:** manhandling, burns

It was a quarter to three when Aziraphale found them.

The night was cold and dreary; damp in the way that welcomed the chill to nestle into one’s bones and take residence beneath. A perfectly good night for lurking, it might be said.

Aziraphale would not say that. In fact, he’d much rather be doing anything else that did not require him to be here, tromping through the sticky mud of consecrated ground. And it was holy, if only by rite. The rows of cracked, decaying stone—tombstones like teeth—smiled in welcome.

He approached the bolted wooden doors of the church. Somewhere beyond them he felt the pull of the summons. Not his own, but Crowley’s. Aziraphale had followed the source of the pull far to this peaty, wooded place, tethered by the tenuous grasp of the Grace that bound him to Crowley. It was a precaution that they’d agreed to after that fateful summer. They’d hoped they wouldn’t have cause to need it. So much for that.

“Our side,” Aziraphale reminded himself. No one else would be coming to Crowley’s rescue, so it had fallen on him. This was more to Crowley’s expertise, but, well… he would have to do.

The bolts eased with a strained cry and clattered down the front steps. Taking a moment to steel himself, Aziraphale pushed the doors open wide and entered.

Crowley took one look at him and hissed in fury. “Don’t you take one bloody step closer!”

Astonished, Aziraphale halted. “Why I never!”

Crowley continued to hiss and spit and squirm on the center aisle floor, his black jeans smeared gray with damp dust and chalk. His knees must have been burning. Perhaps all that hissing wasn’t coming from his mouth.

Did consecrated ground burn _that_ severely?

Before Aziraphale could think to try again, another voice brought him up short.

A girl with a high, calm voice said, “So you were the partner we’ve been waiting all this time for?” She was sat on the steps of the altar at the front of the church. Her red hightops crossed at the ankles, and long black hair tucked into the neck of her hoodie. She didn’t appear to be much more than a child. Aziraphale knew better than to let that put him at ease.

“It must be. It’s the same energy we detected from the token the demon wore,” answered one of the men from the pew to Aziraphale’s left. He did not seem particularly concerned about this proclamation, nor did his cohort who flagrantly tossed something small and golden from hand to hand. Aziraphale recognized it immediately. Something hot and sickly welled up in his chest.

“Well then,” she said. “Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I came as fast as I could,” Aziraphale told them, eyes darting between the woman, the men, and Crowley’s writhing on the floor. He hoped that Crowley still understood. “What—” his voice broke, “—what seems to be the problem?”

“No problem. We just didn’t want any interruptions. When we realized you were coming, we decided it would be in our best interest to wait,” the girl said. She reached behind her and pulled out a sleek silver device. She tapped the side, and the screen blinked to life. “After all, your energy is stronger. You’d be a better catch.”

Having no idea what that was supposed to mean, Aziraphale played his part in nodding along. Whatever it was that took their attention off Crowley and onto him would be a step in the right direction. It wasn’t his fault that their assumptions were completely baseless.

“What is it you are wanting, then?”

The man that sat in the pew now stood. “Don’t see how that’s any concern of yours,” he said. “We won’t be needing your cooperation.”

Crowley cried out in pain and collapsed to his front. The hissing grew louder and his hands blistered red and angry when he beat them against the floor.

Unable to hold his tongue, Aziraphale leapt forwards and shouted, “Stop this at once, you’re hurting him!”

But as soon as he took that step, two things happened.

Firstly, the door behind him bolted shut once more. It banged loud like canonfire and rung bell-like throughout the empty building. Unlike sound, each toll reverberated not to Aziraphale’s ears, but to his essence. He felt something empty and hollow tugging directly at him now. On the ethereal plane, his wings began to shake.

And secondly, Crowley began to sob.

The girl blinked in amused wonder. “Huh. Guess it worked.”

“What have you done?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Honestly, we just drew some funny shapes and said some words. Sprinkled about a little bit of water. Wasn’t expecting this whole big to-do, but can’t say I’m not happy with the results.”

“We told you it wasn’t rubbish when you brought you in,” groused the thin man who had taken Crowley’s _token_. “Damn brat can’t listen worth a damn.”

“Listening ain’t your strong point either, nimrod. Go get the gear, I’ll deal with this one.”

That was more than enough of this game.

Seeing red, Aziraphale reached with his essence towards that yawning absence that lapped at his core and snapped. The three humans that stared at his raised hand were greatly unimpressed.

He snapped again. Nothing. “What have you done?”

“Cut off the signal,” said the girl at the same time the thin man said, “Binding ritual.” The larger man smacked him in the back of the head, causing the little golden token to be dropped and free to roll along the ground.

“What did I _just_ say about it being none of his business what we’re doing, huh? Shut up and go get everything ready,” he groused, shoving his partner off when he didn’t immediately spring into action.

Aziraphale’s mind reeled. Binding rituals; he knew of many—how to draw them, how to cast them, how to prevent the enemy from breaking through them. For if they did, and they were set free...

“I’m not a demon,” was all he said aloud.

“Don’t matter, apparently.” That was all the further warning the angel was given before the man took him by the arm and forced him to the ground. Without his angelic strength to aid him, he went down pitifully easily.

“Whatever it is you want, I’ll give it to you,” Aziraphale lied. He wriggled in the man’s grip as if trying to break free, but merely inched himself closer to the struggling demon. “I want to make a deal.”

The girl laughed. “Thought you said you weren’t a demon?”

“We’re of the same stock,” Aziraphale told her. Crowley looked up at him with glassy yellow eyes that pinched in pain. His lips were curled in an agonized snarl, and Aziraphale felt his heart rend in two. More to Crowley than to their captors, he said, “But we don’t belong to them anymore.”

That seemed to get her to stop pecking at her device and focus her attention. She frowned and turned to the man that kept Aziraphale’s arms pinned. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mea—”

As soon as the man looked up to answer her call, Aziraphale released his wings in a single powerful rush and threw him off. Clamoring with graceless energy, Aziraphale took the distraction and pulled himself forward. For several terrible moments, he moved, too slowly, until he was close enough to reach. Just before he had, Crowley looked at him for the first time with reverent hope.

Aziraphale slashed through the circle with the meat of his hand. At once, the energy of the room popped and dispersed. And with it Crowley had gone. Banished back from whence he was summoned. Back home to the bookshop. Safe. Aziraphale gasped in ragged relief.

The thin man returned from wherever he’d gone and held up his cloth-covered spoils. “Got ‘em,” he announced. “Oh shit. What happened here?”

“Shut the fuck up and get it ready,” said the large man. He spat out reddened feather fluff from where his lip had been split by Aziraphale’s wing. He sneered in anger and brought his heel down squarely on the angel’s back. The blow knocked the air out of him and sent pain sparkling down his spine.

While Aziraphale howled, he tried to drag himself away and to tuck his wings close to his now fragile body. A discorporation may not mean death, but with no body to return to Crowley with it was just as poor of an outcome. He had to survive this—whatever it was they planned to do.

He turned his head to the side, drawing in quick breaths he didn’t need but desperately craved. And underneath the pew, he saw the stolen golden token. Crowley’s ring.

The one he’d given to Crowley when he had vowed the only side that mattered to him was theirs.

On his own hand, the matching silver band had begun to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this begins the longest of the multi-part fics that are going to be taking place during this series! This story is a whopping 13 parts, nearly half of the overall prompts. So while things might be starting off a bit rough for Crowley here, the overall narrative of the fic will be focused on Aziraphale. Enjoy!


	5. No. 14: Won't You Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?**
> 
> Branding | Heat Exhaustion | **Fire**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping prompts a bit because it takes me significantly longer to have brains for fic than it does for art, so here's day 14's prompt!
> 
> Based off of the fic [Won’t You Come Back To Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977547) by [@hotcrosspigeon](https://hotcrosspigeon.tumblr.com/) \- one of my favorite fics by one of my favorite fic authors! :D


	6. No. 26: More Lonely Than Distrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warnings:** gore, isolation, horror
> 
> Aziraphale's poor...everything, but especially his mind, has been put through the wringer here.

> * * *
> 
> “Oh, _God_.” Raphael fell to his knees. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand. Gabriel leant against the marble block, legs shaking.
> 
> The marble cube was no longer a cube. It bore deep holes, and was marked here and there with strange, smooth gouges. What had once been white was now umber, marked with layers and layers of bloody letters. Flakes floated out into the corridor; the space was full of flakes of blood, of dust and hair, and feathers. So many feathers. The sudden influx of air turned something made of fabric into dust. A small pile of human bones, quite pale, was hideous in its incongruence in front of them.
> 
> Amidst it all, half-wearing what had once been a complete human body, Aziraphale stared back at them.

\- [**More Lonely Than Distrust**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441153?view_full_work=true), by [BuggreAlleThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuggreAlleThis/pseuds/BuggreAlleThis)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this fic with my whole heart and I've been wanting to do art for it for ages! :D

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me and my other Good Omens works on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sightkeeper/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SightKeeper), and [Tumblr](https://sightkeeper.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me, and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Edit: a current note that due to [gestures at the world] things, updates will be sporadic. But I do have this whole series plotted out, so I intend to continue it!


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